These early-to-mid-20th century tales were as cheap as the paper they were printed on. The characters who dared to be seen reading them in public were as lurid as those in the stories themselves.

The stark imagery, gonzo storylines and larger-than-life characters of pulp comics and movies make for great entertainment — it’s a genre that’s explored much too little for my tastes.

“Sin City: A Dame To Kill For,” the Frank Miller and Robert Rodriguez vehicle that opened last week, is the perfect example. It’s pulp at its most potent, it’s nonpareil noir. And as far as seeing it in theaters goes, it’s the only film to date that I’d ever recommend viewing in 3-D. The super-stylization lends itself so well to the effects.

“A Dame To Kill For” is one of my favorite films of the summer. I can’t wait to own it on Blu-ray. But I’m in the super-minority. A look at the film’s dire 44 percent rating on Rottentomatoes.com is an indication of its reception, and the contributing critics pulled no punches in their reviews.

New York Magazine’s David Edelstein sneaked in an insult, too: “It’s hard to believe that so much visual elegance has been brought to bear on material so ugly, and yet the disjunction is intentional, and the film is all of a piece.”

Joshua Rothkopf, of Time Out New York, puts it as bluntly as he possibly can: “You don’t expect to be exhausted by reams of soul-sick narration and artful chiaroscuro compositions, but that’s what happens.”

And Siobhan Synnot from Scotsman sheds light on the misogyny: “You can’t help noticing that in Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller’s world, practically all the male actors are over 40, but all the women are under 35.”

If this were anything other than pulp-noir, then I’d say all these complaints would be completely justified. But the very things these critics complain about — the relentlessly hard-boiled black-and-white story, the visual elegance and ugly material, the soul-sick narration and artful chiaroscuro compositions, and yes, the older men and younger women — are what define this genre.

Pulp fiction reached the height of its popularity in the 1920s and ’30s. This was a time when gangsters were romanticized, alcohol was (for a time) illegal, and therefore, breaking the law was simply commonplace. Pulp magazines, featuring detectives, horror stories and aliens, just to name a few, would often sell one million copies per issue.

The common folk loved to read about intrigue and sex; it was almost as if they longed to live such a life themselves.

The recipe for a top-selling magazine was a leading fellow (a crime fighter or a crime boss) who was gruff and weather-worn, a dame (either in distress, or femme fatale), a bad guy, and a slew of seedy stories, mystery and violence.

As media evolved, so did the way in which the pulp stories were told. But the foundation stayed the same. Dime novels turned into anthologies. Anthologies turned into comic books. Comic books turned into graphic novels. And graphic novels were then adapted into films.

Frank Miller and Robert Rodriguez dug back through almost a century’s worth of storytelling, and brought to the big screen the essence of pulp fiction with both “Sin City” movies. And while this visually stunning storytelling may not be for everyone, we should all at least respect it for being true to form.

My fedora goes off to Miller and Rodriguez. I think I’ll clean my spats, dust off the Duesenberg, grab a dame and light a stogy and see “A Dame To Kill For” another time. Because if I’m just one of a few who truly appreciate this masterpiece for what it is, then so be it.

Do you have a suggestion for Matthew to geek out on? Contact him at Mjacobson@thespectrum.com, follow him on Twitter, @SpectrumMatthew, and like him at Facebook.com/MatthewJacobsonGeek.